Correction

Last blog was misleading. I told about feeling more insecure than ever about my punctuation. Actually, that was not caused by the book, THE ELEGANCE OF THE HEDGEHOG. There was a short mention about the comma in a certain sentence. But that little sentence caused a big uproar among the ladies present at the club meeting. The person leading the conversation, a good friend of mine from long ago, has her doctorate in education, and before her retirement was a principal in one of our elementary schools. She mentioned that little sentence about the 'comma' and with that there was as huge discussion about all sorts of grammar. I did not enter into all that for I was afraid of revealing my ignorance. But it certainly was enough for me not to rush into another blog. After much scolding from my PLOT daughter, I agree that I should let the faults drop where they may.

My maternal grandfather, whose picture I have on my desk, was born in Sweden in 1838. His mother died when he was born and his father either died soon after, or could not take care of him and he became a foster child in a neighbor's house. When he reached a certain age, I think eight, he was indentured into a farmers house and his term was until he was sixteen or eighteen. I don't know if the farmer was supposed to let him go to school during this time. It sounds as though his father had sold him into slavery. I remember his telling us children that when he was sick, the farmer's wife would give him nothing to eat. How he got his education or how he became a school teacher I don't know. I wish I could remember what he told us when we were little, for he loved to talk.

He graduated from the teacher's college, got a job, married his pregnant girlfriend within one week. They had seven children who lived. (I never heard about others) I will tell you about the ones I got to know. I will begin my next blog with how the pregnancy happened.,